


Together Alone

by thestarsjustblinkforus



Series: 90's Amis [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 90's Amis, Concerts, M/M, crowded house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsjustblinkforus/pseuds/thestarsjustblinkforus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He doesn’t know why he’s even here. Enjolras wasn’t serious about inviting him, he threw up on him like .5 seconds after mentioning it which rendered their whole conversation null and void right then and there, and if he didn’t vomit himself pretty frequently from over imbibing he would have been all <b>tell me how you really feel</b> but instead he walked him home with Combeferre and they sang <b>"November Rain"</b> on the way (with Ferre doing an admirable job with the instrumental bits) to try and make him feel a little better and when Grantaire left them on Enjolras’s doorstep he’d mumbled sleepily into his shoulder, ”Thank you, Slash”,  and then dry heaved his way inside.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to [Happy New Year](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3484727)

March 28, 1994

\- - - - - - - - - 

He doesn’t know why he’s even here. Enjolras wasn’t serious about inviting him,  _he threw up_ on him like .5 seconds after mentioning it which rendered [their whole conversation](http://thestarsjustblinkforus.tumblr.com/post/76442459088/90s-amis-verse-he-doesnt-he) null and void right then and there, and if he didn’t vomit himself pretty frequently from over imbibing he would have been all  _tell me how you **really**  feel_ but instead he walked him home with Combeferre and they sang " _[November Rain](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGpqZSmpqDA)"_  on the way (with Ferre doing an admirable job with the instrumental bits) to try and make him feel a little better and when Grantaire left them on Enjolras’s doorstep he’d mumbled sleepily into his shoulder, _”Thank you,[Slash](https://www.google.com/search?q=guns+n+roses+slash&espv=210&es_sm=93&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=G6AQU_ngMqfeyAHnnoCgDQ&ved=0CCkQsAQ&biw=1263&bih=884#q=guns+n+roses+slash+90s&tbm=isch&facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=jSFpQpvVUXgvzM%253A%3BzPaT5x93TTkMXM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fimg2.blogcu.com%252Fimages%252Fg%252Fu%252Fi%252Fguitargod%252Fslash_saul_hudson.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fcelebrities.knoji.com%252Freal-names-of-10-celebrities-pierce-brosnan-brad-pitt-marcia-cross-sting-bono-the-edge-and-more%252F%3B300%3B407)”,_   and then dry heaved his way inside.

So. Yeah. Enjolras probably doesn’t even remember he asked him to come in the first place, he probably doesn’t remember  _any_  of it and Grantaire really wishes he could forget too because Enjolras’s face flushed with alcohol and body heat glowing a really fucking pretty pink against the candlelight white of the bathtub’s edge as he rested his cheek on it and looked up at him with wide blue eyes… it’s been stuck in his head like a song, a visual earworm that keeps flashing through his brain making him remember the warm press of his arm against his when he sat next to him in the tub and how silky his hair felt under his fingers, even the parts that were damp with sweat and it’s so dumb because it’s been over _two months_  since New Year’s and  _what the fuck am I even doing here I don’t even give a shit about this band…_

He hadn’t lied, he did check them out like he’d told him he did and he  _did_  like the song [Enjolras had talked back at him in defense](http://90samis.tumblr.com/post/112656661197/sorry-i-apparently-got-back-on-a-nirvana-kick) and he actually likes a couple others too but Crowded House is not exactly a band he’d shell out for let alone scrape together enough for a scalped ticket. The show had sold out weeks ago but even so he hadn’t thought doing the last chance dance would cost him  _forty bucks_ because who the fuck even knows about Crowded House anyway and he does  _not_  have that kind of pocket money to throw around (Jehan does though because Jehan’s parents are loaded and they believe in something called an “allowance”. Jehan spotted him 30 dollars tonight and didn’t even ask what it was for and that… that made him feel even worse about taking it than he already did) but not coming… not coming would have made him feel like he was throwing something away… something important, something he wants even if he can’t really admit to himself that he does.

He’s by the bar fiddling with the bracelet around his wrist that says he’s old enough to drink which he totally is  _not._  He has an excellent fake that he probably didn’t even really need because he’s always looked way older than he is but whatever it’s gotten him unquestioned access to drinks at this concert he doesn’t really care about with music that’s so pretty it kind of makes his insides hurt and he is all about dulling hurt especially when it comes to pretty things like  _[“I hear the endless murmur every blade of grass that shivers in the breeze..."](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hR_UzhDD8wg)_  and ok, the band is actually kind of really great and he should have told Jehan where he was going, he should have told Jehan to  _come with him_  because Jehan would  _love_  this, or fuck, he should have asked  _Bahorel_  because he’s pretty sure he owns a copy of  _[Temple of Low Mein](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Temple_of_Low_Men)_  or whatever that one album’s called and Bahorel wouldn’t know why he’s really here like Jehan would. Or, at the very least he would  _pretend_  like he didn’t know (which Jehan  _wouldn’t_ ) which is almost as good as being completely oblivious in the first place to the fact that he is all… all… he doesn’t even  _know_ , but he’s all  _something_  about Enjolras and has been from the second he saw him, and it only got about a bazillion times worse when he witnessed him shutting down a Senior who was trying to make easy pickings out of Courf because you could probably fit Courf in your pocket if you tried and somehow that translates as “weak” to the meatheads. Courf hadn’t really  _needed_  the help because he is surprisingly tough for being so little, but even he had been impressed with the torrent of words that had flown out of Enjolras’s mouth, words that made the guy who had about a hundred pounds and three years on him physically  _back up_.  Enjolras had looked like he was about to pass out once the asshole stalked off, and Ferre had had to actually unclench his fists for him and when he did Grantaire saw that his hands were  _shaking_  and he admired him all the more for being afraid but speaking up anyway…   

That was the moment Enjolras became whatever it is he is to Grantaire. Like, amazing and beautiful pretty much in every way a person can be amazing and beautiful but in a different way than Jehan or Bahorel, different in a way that makes him feel like a shaken up bottle of pop, like a fizzing under his skin making him feel slightly sick but buoyed up at the same time, a forever pitch and roll of high highs and low lows that rest on his eyes, his voice, his mouth smiling a small smile or twisting in disappointment… 

He’s familiar with that twist.

And he doesn’t want to see it tonight. It’s Enjolras’s birthday, he wants him to be happy like someone like Enjolras  _should_  be happy on his birthday, so he’s been sticking to the back near the bar where Enjolras will never go (especially after his adventure with champagne) and he scans the crowd for him just as much to keep away as to see him…

And  _There, t_ _here they are_ , they’re up front. Combeferre, a pro at concert etiquette, has let two smaller girls get in front of him to see and Enjolras is standing stock still beside him in the swaying crowd, mesmerized. He can’t see his face, just the back of his head that has this sort of ring around it, the edges of his hair glowing like a halo from the blue light coming from the stage, but he can tell… He knows enraptured when he sees it and Enjolras is  _enraptured_  and he wishes he could see his face, could see him looking like that.

And this song really is fucking beautiful. It makes him close his eyes and pretend things, pretend like he could walk through that crowd to where he is, that it would part for him because it  _knows._ That he could touch Enjolras’s elbow with the tips of his fingers, ask with the very tips of his fingers, and Enjolras would turn and see him and without either of them saying a word because words always fuck everything up they’d put their arms around each other and dance under these lights that are waving in blues and greens like being under the ocean, dancing under the ocean, swaying like seaweed, they’d sway like seaweed and Enjolras would let him touch his hair again and he’s never been so careful in his life as when he touches Enjolras, even in his head, even in his  _dreams_ , and he’s never wanted anything so badly as to dance with Enjolras  _right now_ , to be alone with him in this room full of people for real with their lighters out and filling the darkness with stars of fire, their heads on each other’s shoulders, their hands cupping each other’s shoulder blades and he’s never thought shit like this before, never wanted shit like this before with anyone…

_But he’s not just anyone, he’s…_

He’s Enjolras.

_And he would never let you._

He opens his eyes, tears them away from the real Enjolras who has started to sway a bit like a little kid, back and forth with his shoulders, right shoulder forward then left, then right, then left. He looks at Ferre instead who is completely oblivious to the girl staring hopefully up at him as Courf twirls her friend and he immediately turns his back, curls himself around his half finished drink when Courf looks up from her and catches his eye and he thinks,  _shit_ , he thinks,  _fuck_. He thinks  _I am a chameleon, I can change my shape, I can change my colors and sink into this bar, my eyes are beer mats, my arms are tap handles…_

A hand lands on his back and he thinks about ignoring it,  _I am wood, I am metal, I am puddles and ring stains_ and _fuck fuck fuck_ , but he turns and faces Courf’s bright smile, his teeth shining purple in the blue light making him look like a kind of awesomely fucked up jack-o-lantern with his big eyes crinkling up at him.

“I can’t believe you came!” he shouts over the music and Grantaire nods mutely trying to think of an excuse to get away and ends up with, “I gotta um, yeah…” and starts to just  _go_  but Courf fucking  _follows_  him out into the entryway.

“Enjolras didn’t think you’d come! He’s going to be so-”

And his heart maybe leaps a little that Enjolras  _remembered_  but he cuts him off before he can hear any more and he says, “I actually gotta go, I said I’d meet Bahorel for a thing um…” He looks over at the merch table so he doesn’t have to look at Courf who is utterly baffled and sputtering, “But they just started” at him, and he desperately thrusts the last of Jehan’s money at the merch guy and points at a t-shirt. The guy hands it to him and he shoves it at Courf who’s still trying to get him to come back with him and he says, “Naw, really I gotta go, but… give this to him ok? For his birthday?” Courf nods and takes it, frowning.

“Grantaire, he’d really-” 

“Don’t tell him it’s from me, ok? Actually, you didn’t see me ok? I’m not here. I was never here,” and he all but runs away like the chicken he is, like the chicken he’ll always be, and the band kicks up behind him and his heart is a jackhammer and it beats it beats it beats him bloody.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [90's Amis Verse](http://90samis.tumblr.com/) :) - come say yo
> 
> Here's an [actual review](http://articles.chicagotribune.com/1994-03-29/news/9403290205_1_paul-hester-nick-seymour-neil-finn) from that concert at the [Riviera](http://media.tumblr.com/7d7eb7e259ce3b4a5f29f7ef8de592cc/tumblr_inline_mvohr50GJJ1rp8pa5.jpg) in 1994.


End file.
